


A Soaring Romance

by enchantedlightningwrites



Series: Enchant's Sambucky Bingo 2k19 Fics [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Love Poems, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poetry, Romance, Sambucky Bingo 2019, Waxing poetic about Sam Wilson because he's great, free space, poet!bucky, soft bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedlightningwrites/pseuds/enchantedlightningwrites
Summary: Bucky finds ways to express his feelings for Sam, which could be as strong as the winds of winter. Sometimes, it takes the right words to show the right amount of true feelings.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: Enchant's Sambucky Bingo 2k19 Fics [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690249
Comments: 17
Kudos: 25
Collections: Sambucky Bingo





	A Soaring Romance

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOOO! Finally, y'all, I've reached the last part of this Bingo! Thank you, Nixie DeAngel for hosting the bingo and for creating my Bingo Card! Thank you to my mutuals, Siancore, Glittercake, 27dis, justficsandstuff, and francehonestly for being kind and friendly on interacting with me! And for being just as enthusiastic about this ship as I am!
> 
> To this who didn't fill out their bingoes; it's okay. At least, you still have prompts to consider as ideas! It doesn't matter, if you finished it before the last day, or on it. What matters is your effort. ^-^
> 
> Now to talk about the fic, I got the idea from the headcanon that francehonestly (tysm!) made up for Bucky, and it's how this tale had happened!! ^-^
> 
> This ain't my last Sambucky fic and now I can focus on Rush In Danger, without any interruptions, excuses or delaying.
> 
> This fills the square: Free Space

**September 28, 2017**

The open windows let in the cool air to enter the room, billowing the transparent and pale curtains. The light from the florescent lamp casted a bright spot over the desk, where Bucky had his elbow propped as he sat in an immaculate armchair.

Black ink filled through the thick surface of the paper, being scribbled with a cursive yet loopy penmanship in single lines of the page.

Bucky sighed as he let his calligraphy pen rest atop of the black cover of the other journal. He rubbed his palms all over his face, slightly shaking his head.

He had been stuck in the room, after breakfast and feeding Alpine. Sam had went out to hang out with some of their friends, and Bucky declined their offer, because he wanted to work on something. _Write_ something.

It had been awhile, since he had shown Sam, some of his works and he had been meaning to do it again, when he received the chance.

Every single day, Bucky couldn’t help how the structure of his thoughts spun in his mind, whenever Sam was around, turning him to be more than just a friend to him.

Not that Bucky had said anything yet. He managed to stay silent about his feelings, preferring to keep it a secret for himself.

Unfortunately, a few of his friends had caught him, whenever he sent a longing gaze to Sam.

Steve, Wanda, and Natasha had been a little too encouraging, while the others were making bets, whenever he turned his back on them.

They all believed that Bucky could get a shot with Sam, but at what cost?

Maybe if he had done a better job at hiding his feelings, maybe he wouldn’t have felt so. . . exposed and open. Despite that, Sam didn’t comment on the way Bucky looked at him.

Bucky couldn’t help it– what was he supposed to do? Repress all his feelings, until it swallowed him whole? Until it made him bleed?

If he couldn’t say anything, he could just expose it on the comforting surface of a paper. No one had to know, well, except maybe Steve.

Bucky had done a poem back in high school, before getting enlisted for war. He had written some piece dedicated to nature, describing the delicate leaves and sparkling sunsets. When he had remembered it, tears slipped down his cheeks that time, because regaining memories –such as the cinnamon smell of his ma’s apple pie, Becca’s toothy smile– like those, brought up the feelings, he never believed that he could _experience_ again.

But Sam didn’t deserve misery, his wounds, the ache clinging in his soul, the regrets, and guilt tormenting his mind, every night.

Sam deserved enthralling words to be weaved for him, in the form of loving whispers and poetry spilled onto paper as ink. To be compared to the beauty of the wings of Icarus, the sun glowing all over his stunning existence, the moon shimmering behind him, the stars burning bright.

Sam deserved so much more than what Bucky could give, but if these poems could bring that to him. . . he would try.

So, Bucky picked up his pen again, flipped the pages open and continued on writing his latest poem for his muse.

_You take my heart in flight_

_With your bold smiles_

_Your movements of grace_

_Your soft, big heart_

_It is in these darkest times_

_That you bring the light_

_To my mind’s void_

_For that I wish_

_I could do the same_

When he lifted his pen from the paper, Bucky examined his work, and smiled a little to himself. If nothing else, he wish he could let Sam see his heart in the form of his poems.

If nothing else, he could hope that Sam would appreciate the sincerity of his poems.

Sighing dreamily, Bucky decided to write another poem, because his heart and soul were brimmed with feelings and emotions, he longed to express.

_I always wonder_

_Do I ever make you feel?_

_The things you make me feel?_

_Do I make your heart almost stop?_

_Do I make you catch your breath?_

_Do you smile when you think of me?_

_Do I reign your thoughts each night?_

_Do your gaze wander to mine?_

_Because that is how I feel_

_Whenever you’re near me_

He heard some sound dragged behind the door. He knew who was trying to visit him, so he stood up and pulled the knob open.

Bucky kneeled down, holding out his palms to allow Alpine to leap into them. He stroked her back, as her eyes fluttered close.

“Hey, Al,” Bucky greeted hoarsely. “How’s my favorite kitty?”

The cat responded with a purr, snuggling closer to his chest. Bucky shut the door, waiting for Sam to return home.

***

Sam had been receiving lots of sticky notes and papers, wherever he walked into a room, this past week. He liked seeing it pinned in a board, or pasted at the fridge.

Just last night, when he got back, he found a sun yellow note on the board, on his way to the bathroom, with the words: _you presence here makes this house cozy enough to feel like home._

Or another one, from his last solo mission: _Hey, hope that your wings hovered in the air, and you casted a silhouette as if you’re a guardian angel protecting the city._

Sam might not easily simper or blush, but he had to admit that he swooned at the message of those notes. Because damn, someone who knew what to say with those sweet words always curved his lips into smiling, and set his heart racing wild.

Who knew that paper could affect him, this badly? Sam sure never did.

A yowl screeched from the other side, making Sam whirl towards the sound. Alpine let out displeased and eager meows, rushing in his direction.

Sam laughed, rubbing a hand over the back of his head.

“Hey there, kitty,” Sam cooed, bending to lightly scratch her ears. “You hungry? Cause you sound like you do.”

Alpine turned a bit, letting Sam brush his knuckles across her cheeks.

Getting up, Sam opened the cupboards to search for her food. He grabbed a packet of snacks and filled the empty dish bowl in efficient quantity.

Another basket occupied the table, and Sam bit back a smile. He also had been receiving presents from Bucky, who recommended him poets, such as Pablo Neruda, John Keats, Elizabeth Barret Browning, and so many in a list, he had hand-written.

Sam had been kinda interested in poetry, ever since. . . well, Bucky has shown him, one of the most beautiful poems, he had ever read. Plus, his penmanship looked elegant despite its messiness.

Back in his teens and his twenties, people were always spending money on gifts, like chocolate, flowers, dinners, clothes, or any expensive material things. Someone had even rented a spot at a famous monument, just to impress him.

While Sam did appreciate those sort of thoughtfulness, but none really ever won his heart in a simple way, except Bucky’s poems.

Now he sounded a little pretentious, but who could not melt at words straight from somebody’s heart? Sam wasn’t cruel enough to deny his feelings for Bucky, in order to cause heartbreak.

But Sharon was the only person to notice, and she scoffed at his attempts, when he tried hiding it.

“Mornin’, Sammy,” Bucky greeted in a raspy, tired voice.

Just like that, Sam’s heart pounded against his heavy rib-cage and his lips curled into a blooming smile.

“Good morning, Buck,” Sam replied with a wave.

Last night, he had dreamed of Bucky. The two of them were in an open field, where they shared kisses and embraces underneath a moonlit and starry sky, and the wind blew past them. They touched each other with a lovers’ caress, and kissed each other with enough passion to overpower them.

(Sam had been reading way too much poetry and prose that it scrambled his brain.)

He had been dreaming of it, for the past week, and every time he woke up completely breathless.

Bucky clutched on a journal, keeping it at his side. “There’s something I want you to see, Sam.”

“I’d like to read whatever it is, you wanna say, Bucky.”

Their names sounded true and intimate like words of a foreign language, only known to them.

Sam never had felt a connection, so raw and strong. His breath hitched, as his chest slowly rose and fell.

Clearing his throat, Sam sauntered over to Bucky, trying to minimize the distance between them. Bucky remained still, his eyes resting at Sam in that pensive and almost tender gaze.

Sam reached for his metal wrist, stroking it with his thumb. The cold chilled him, but he firmly planted himself and kept gazing at Bucky, who set the journal down at the long wooden table.

When Bucky opened the book with a free hand, Sam’s fingers danced along the length of his arm, drawing him closer. Sam gathered Bucky in his arms, pressing their chests closer. They hugged each other, warmth enveloping between them as their fingers locked together.

Without further prompt, Bucky revealed a page with a poem. Sam’s heart fluttered and swelled, when he laid his eyes at the words.

_Oh, Sam, can’t you see?_

_How much I’m falling for you?_

_And can’t you even believe?_

_How much I’m waiting for you?_

_To catch me in your arms?_

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to ramble with me, you can @enchanted-lightning-aes in tumblr!


End file.
